


Dear Alma Mater

by SweetBirdi



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Professors, Crush at First Sight, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, M/M, Self-Indulgent, graves teaches calculus, it's funny because gays can't do math, really simple stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 19:08:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13958079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetBirdi/pseuds/SweetBirdi
Summary: Every universe needs a good college professor au! Tobias is a newly hired professor of history at the Guardian Sea University, where he meets a colorful cast of interesting characters. Most interesting being the calculus professor who seems to have an eye on him for whatever reason. Shameless AU, nothing much going to happen here except my own personal fantasies. Enjoy nevertheless!





	Dear Alma Mater

It wasn’t every day an old ex-con was allowed to teach at a professional institute of knowledge. Especially not one such as this — the Guardian Sea University was not one to be overlooked or under-appreciated, not that anyone would think of doing such a thing upon even just seeing pictures. The university lies just shy of a cliff face overlooking a vast and bright blue sea where the sun rose every morning over its cold reflection below. The once spiny rocks at the bottom of the cliff have long been leveled out by the salt water’s constant ebb and flow, leaving an absolutely perfect place for any wandering student with a beach towel and a need for a getaway. Though because of the university’s northern location, the sea is always a bit chilly no matter the weather, and there are never any palm trees to be found. The lecture halls, lab buildings, and dormitories are entrenched in a voluptuous pine tree forest, their evergreen shade always giving the campus a gold-speckled image. 

It’s been years since Tobias dropped out of school and pursued a much more affordable online education where he could go at his own pace. Did it take him until his forties to actually find a job due to his record? Absolutely. But nevertheless, he was hired as a last-ditch effort to push in some history classes for freshman cores. Lucky break, he thought with a smile as he received the news of his hiring. 

It wasn’t much of a hefty sum, all things considered. But it was enough for a rinky-dink little apartment just a couple miles away from the gorgeous campus, just enough distance to watch the public bus nearly hit a couple deer per week. It was all a man convicted of several accounts of petty theft (never charged, he’d remark bemusedly) could ask for in a fresh start. 

He walks through the throng of students looking for their classes; freshmen hunched over printouts with pens making notes of directions, sophomores going based off of instinct and vague memory alone, and the upperclassmen standing in circles and laughing about how far apart their classes are from the last. Tobias takes in a deep breath of the crisp, prestigious, pretentious collegiate air. He crossed the campus casually but full of his typical prideful swagger, a short stack of papers with the information that would help him log into the school computer under arm. There was a lecture hall waiting for him, in the Center of Sciences building near the center of campus. One with a clear view of the sea but far enough away that made it look dreamy and not absolutely terrifying. He reaches the door of the Sciences building and quietly enters, closing the door to the tepid August atmosphere. 

The one drawback with the location was that the COS was also where nearly every math class was held, resulting in Tobias having to come face-to-face with the source of many a sleepless night in his teenage years. He couldn’t even recognize the symbols being used for what looked like a math club activity. Like, for fun. An activity for  _ fun.  _ With math symbols imperceivable to understand from an outsider’s perspective, how were teenagers supposed to have fun? When he was their age, Tobias snuck out to drink and gamble and sleep around, not calculate the exact measurement of Jupiter using only the context of how many dish soaps Johnny has. He shudders and briskly walks past the sign, pushing the haunting thoughts of nerds away from his mind. 

History students were not nerds, he’d decided a while back. Nerd _ -y,  _ perhaps, but not nerds. History students learned history at a college level to learn about the past and about what made the world how it is today. Most of them are not ready to learn of the harsh realities of colonialism or most of west Europe in general, but Tobias was fine with that. They’ll learn one way or another in this class. Hopefully. 

He turns a corner down a narrow hallway that he recognizes houses his lecture hall. He locates his keys from his pocket and slides one of three into the knob on the door. The door opens smooth, seamless, and silently against the carpet underfoot— 

“--d’you  _ mean,  _ ain’t my classroom right now?” 

“I  _ mean, _ from nine to ten-thirty there’s a different class in here.”

Tobias halts in the doorway as a stocky gentleman and a tough-looking woman stood nearly toe to toe in their arguments. Immediately he can sense the room’s energy as the two snarl at each other without even noticing his entry. 

“I was told that this’d be my room again this semester. Where the hell is my class?” the man growls, hooking his hand in his belt and rolling his shoulders back. It reminded Tobias of an old, grumpy bulldog. 

The woman didn’t have to do half as much to seem twice as intimidating. She simply narrowed her eyes — carefully made up, it seemed, with a subtle shadow and eyeliner — and tapped her fingers on her cross arms. 

“Check the system. Or, better yet,” she starts, tapping her finger to her chin. “Maybe check your fuckin’ emails for once, hm? Seems like it’d be a good use of your time.”

“You wouldn’t know a good use of your time if it bit you on your—” 

Tobias let the door slip closed behind him. The click of the handle halted the man and woman in their argument. They turned to him, he with the sharp fury he’d just been about to release on the woman, she with the chilling calmness of a royal. 

He smiles and waves. 

“Mornin’, folks. Hope I’m not interruptin’ nothin’ big.” he says. 

“Who are you.” the woman snaps. “Why are you in here.” 

“Professor Foxtrot.” Tobias says cooly. He puts his key back into his pocket and keeps his hand there nonchalantly. “I’m teaching History 103 this semester. At around-” he checks his wristwatch, noticing how his words and actions seemed to rile the man up more. “-twenty minutes from now.”

The woman relaxes a little. She lets out a soft sigh and nods. 

“ _ You’re _ in the right place.” she says. She extends one hand, manicured as subtly and as neatly as her eye makeup. “Dr. Fortune.” 

“Ah, the Dean.” Tobias offers with a raise of his eyebrows and meets her hand with a firm shake. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Tobias had done his homework — Dr. Fortune was the Dean of Criminology and ran a tight ship. He’d been told to keep an eye out for her. 

He turns to the man. Seems like he didn’t get the memo. He looks different, though. His rage has turned quiet, though not brooding. Waiting. 

Scary...

“This is Professor Graves.” Fortune says, nodding to her colleague. 

Graves simply grumbles in reply. 

“Charming one, aren’t you?” Tobias prompts, flashing a smile. Graves does not return it. 

“Could be, if you wanted.” 

“I  _ do _ want that.”

“Hn.” Graves does not break their maintained eye contact, and something about him seems… off, all of a sudden. Tobias notes how his arms are now stiff at his sides, like he’s ready to throw something, whether it be a punch or a table. And yet, despite the underlying danger in the situation, Tobias cannot help his wandering eyes. Professor Graves’ hands are thick and wide, calloused for whatever reason. Writing? What did he teach? The callouses lay on the outside of his forefinger. Did he play an instrument? He looked like a guitar kind of guy. His wrists are sturdy, covered in a layer of dark hair that curls all the way up his arms until his skin disappears under his rolled-up sleeves. And it might be the way the fabric folds, but holy  _ shit,  _ is he  _ ripped. _ Tobias could use a friend like that. 

He maintains his smile as Graves notices his stare and takes a small pace back. He covers this poorly by going to grab his leather bag. He snatches a long, thin case (readers, Tobias figures) off the desk at the front and slides it into his bag. But he just stands back at Fortune’s place in the room. The Dean sniffs and walks to the door, forcing Tobias to quietly step aside.

“I suggest you start findin’ that classroom of yours, Malcolm.” Fortune says. “Wouldn’t want to miss your first class.” 

She gives Tobias a wave, gives Graves another cold look, and leaves.

And Tobias is alone with a man who sort of looks like he wants him dead. His easy smile never leaves, neither does Graves’ grimace of discomfort and anger. 

“I look forward to workin’ with you.” he says, absolutely meaning it.  

Graves huffs gently, shouldering his bag and pushing past Tobias. 

One could swear he said something along the lines of “same t’you.” 

 


End file.
